


Potential

by selannes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Dom/sub, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Spanking, no seriously i was shocked too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selannes/pseuds/selannes
Summary: Claude and Sid spend some quality time together after game 6.





	Potential

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for potentially dubious consent.  
> Could be viewed as dubious as Claude maybe kinda thinks him and Sid fucking around is a Flyers-Pittsburgh Winner-Loser thing whereas Sid just wants to tap that.  
> I wrote this instead of doing my coursework whoops  
> That game got me so hyped though

Claude watched as a limping Couturier was helped out of the locker room by a tired looking Simmonds and Provorov, the latter’s face still wet from a fresh bout of tears. Claude’s heart ached for them, young and hungry for something that always seemed to slip from their fingers. Claude had been like that once, taken every loss as a personal failure of astronomical proportions. For Claude losses didn’t hurt like that anymore – weren’t a blinding, gut-wrenching indescribable flurry of pain, shame and anger. Now they were a slow and steady tugging kind of pain, like a fish hook was lodged inside him deep, so deep he couldn’t pull it out. The dull throb of pain never went away; it just throbbed and throbbed to the beat of his heart. It was a predictable pain, predictable in that he knew it was coming because of course it’s coming, no point even wasting time wishing it won’t come.

They’ll be okay though – Nolan and Ivan and Sean – they’ll go home and mend themselves, flipping between over ruminating the past few weeks and not thinking on it at all. They’ll cry and laugh and heal, and come training camp they’ll have found purpose again. They’ll be hungry again, and this time they won’t take no for an answer.

Claude wants to do that too, that comforting cycle of living and breathing something not hockey, just for a couple of months. Claude wants so badly to leave through that door with them, go home and cuddle his dog. Sleep would come easy; Claude knows from experience that the night of elimination games are mercifully dreamless. But Claude can’t leave yet, doesn’t want to leave yet.  He’s known from the second he made contact with Hagelin, since he watched him make his way into the locker room and never come back, that he can’t leave before he’s paid his dues.

 

* * *

 

Claude doesn’t know how it began, if it’s always been this way or if it’s more recent, but he does know he never heard Richards or Pronger mention it so if it is a long time tradition, it’s one kept in the dark. That’s fine with Claude – he’s not sure he could live with the team knowing. This tradition of submitting to the better team, the better man.

The first time was in 2013, Claude’s first year as captain, after a home game. Sid had approached Claude and invited him back to his hotel room. The implications were clear, Sid wasn’t asking him over for a friendly chat, and Claude had said yes. That night, in a dimly lit hotel room with the curtains drawn, Sid had put Claude on his knees and choked him with his cock. To Claude it had felt like payback for the previous year’s playoffs and he had shamefully loved every filthy second of it. Ever since then it had become a thing that happened every game they played during the regular season – never the playoffs – for them to meet after a game at each other’s respective houses (not hotel’s not since Worlds), and just relax into the reliable language of their physical pleasure.

They never do it in the playoffs, it’s never viable practically and they haven’t played each other in the playoffs since they started doing this. Until this year. Claude knows its different now, can feel something rising in him, and sees it reflected in Sid when they catch each other’s eyes. So Claude waits, standing naked in the middle of the empty locker room, feeling like he’s in some sort of limbo. He’s not waiting long though and soon enough Sid’s walking in, looking flush from the victory maybe or the shower most likely and he’s wearing clothes – soft looking sweats and shirt – but Claude doesn’t mind that he’s venerable - that he’s not on even footing with Sid. Used to it, likes it even. Sid crowds up against him and Claude grabs onto his arms to keep balance as Sid noses along his jawline, never touching, just the promise of it.

“Hey,” Sid says, soft, sure of himself and confident that he’s welcomed here, even though he really, really shouldn’t be.

But Claude is weak and so he says back just as soft, “Hey.”

“You played well today.”

Claude snorts, “We lost.”

“You can lose and still play well,” Sid says and Claude kind of hates him because what he’s really saying is, _you played well but we played better_.

Claude wants to hurt Sid and wants to hurt in return so he says, “I’m surprised you think I played well with Hagelin limping off the ice.” Sid doesn’t even tense, annoyingly, simply sighs and places his hands onto Claude’s bare hips.

“I’m not happy about it Claude, but I know you didn’t intend for him to get seriously hurt.”

“Didn’t stop Kessel from trying to knock me out.”

“He barely grabbed you, stop being such a drama queen.” Claude lifts his face from where it had been looking at his hands on Sid’s shoulders to scowl at him.

“Unless….” Sid’s hands tighten on his hips, fingers pressing into the bones. “Maybe you wanted someone to push you down on the ice.”

Claude feels his breath stutter and he licks his lips, looking into Sid’s eyes.

“Do you want me to punish you, Claude?”

Claude knows from experience that a simple nod won’t do for Sid ( _“I’m not a mind reader, Claude. I want you to tell me what you want and what you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”_ ) So in a clear and concise voice Claude says, “Yes, I want you to punish me.”

“Okay. How do you feel about spanking?”

Claude rests his head against Sid’s shoulder, his muscles already started to relax and unravel, “Your hand?”

“Yup,” Sid runs his hand up and down Claude’s spine fingers feeling out his knobs and bumps of his vertebrae. “You ready?” At Claude’s nod Sid leads Claude over to one of the benches, sitting down with his knees spread apart and pulls Claude down to lay over them, face down.

“I’m going to give you twenty, ok?”

“Ok,” Claude shifts and closes his eyes. “I’m ready.”

The first smack of Sid’s hand is a shock, as always, but Claude keeps his eyes closed tight. Sid keeps his pace even, just as Claude likes it, no surprises. Soon after the seventh smack Claude finds himself drifting into the reliable bursts of pain coming from Sid’s hand. Whenever they do this, the spanking, Claude finds himself thinking of 2015 – of Worlds. Claude had initially been wary of them being on a team together, would have been wary even if they weren’t intimate. Sid must have been wary too because they never found themselves alone with each other. They talked, at team meals and practice, but they hadn’t touched or kissed and held each other. Stayed polite and distant. Until after, the two of them with matching gold glinting around their necks, and Claude so, so happy but with so, so much energy just trapped inside him. Claude begging Sid to please, _god please_ , spank him. So Sid had, in a brightly lit hotel room with a gorgeous view of Prague that Claude could look at as he panted into the bed sheets while Sid ate him out thoroughly after a truly breath-taking spanking.

Worlds had changed a lot for them.

Sid is stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead and murmuring into his ears and Claude realises the spanking has finished and he’s lost time because he’s not on his front anymore, he’s straddling Sid.

“Are you back with me, Clo?” Sid says as he pressing sweet kisses up Claude’s neck and Claude shivers, his cock jolting at the use of a fond nickname, and now he’s painfully conscious of the fact that he’s rock hard and leaking all over the place.

“Mmh, ‘m back.” Claude starts to rock lightly against Sid, rubbing his cock against Sid’s shirt.

Claude can feel Sid’s smile pressed against his neck, “You want to come, Claude?”

Claude whines and nods, lowering his head and nuzzling against Sid’s face.

Sid pulls out his own cock from his sweatpants so that he can hold both of them together and start to jack them off in his grip, achingly slow. Claude huffs and rocks his hips, wishing Sid would just get with the program already.

Sid does, stroking them faster, “You’re a needy little thing aren’t you? Maybe I should make you get on the floor; rub against my leg like a dog. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Claude? Come all over yourself from just the friction and the knowledge that it was me who made you come. Cruel Crosby who stole your chances for the cup from you.”

It’s too much, hot and tight and mean, Claude yells and he comes all over Sid’s hand. Claude slumps on Sid’s lap, drained of everything, only bare bones left, while Sid grips himself, Claude’s come helping him ease the friction and he comes too, with a long groaned out “Claude”.

Claude finds his breath again, thighs and ass aching; lifts Sid’s hand to his mouth and cleans him of their combined spend. Relishes Sid’s muttered, “Jesus, Claude” as he licks in between his fingers.

As Claude gets up on shaky legs Sid stands up too to help him get dressed, “God you’re a mess Giroux,” Sid says with a little pleased grin.

“Stop being so smug or I won’t let you come home with me.”

Sid blinked, frozen, before a sweet slow smile curves his lips.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

Shit, Claude hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. Home, like it’s theirs or something. Regrets saying it like that.

But… Sid standing in their kitchen, fixing up some gross/healthy drink for the two of them while Claude sits at the island watching him, staring at Sid’s hair where it’s curling at the back of his neck. Curling, because it’s the summer and he’s growing his hair out during the off season. Sid in his house during the off season, the thought is making Claude dizzy with the potential of what that means.

“C’mon, let’s go home.” Sid says, “If you’re really good on the ride there, I’ll choke you while we’re fucking tomorrow.” Claude’s head is still spinning from the revelations he’s just made, and he’s got some serious thinking to do in terms of what he wants and what he needs, but not now. Now is for Sidney guiding him out of the room with a firm hand on his shoulder. Now is for the two of them in his bed, curled into each other. Now is for Claude to be good for Sid.

Later. Later he can think of potential summers together.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah when I initially had this idea this was going to be angsty and kinda mean but then I went no!!!! fluff!!! they're in love!!! Hope you enjoyed it!  
> I got a few more Grilled Cheesby fic ideas in the works so let me know if you liked this one, will really motivate me to get on those other ones asap.
> 
> @nelliphant on tumblr


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